“Tried to cheat me out of my share will ya,” a voice said angrily in a bandit camp overlooking Karthwasten. The camp reeked with death and a figure could be seen reflecting on the situation.

Niyleen sat atop a pedestal and scowled at the events that had transpired. “Damn Forsworn,” she cursed. “I can’t believe the nerve of those bastards, trying to cheat me… ME! The Raging Inferno of the Reach! Killing them was too easy. I shoulda burned the bodies, resurrected their corpses, and…”

She held her tongue after remembering the grotesque things she saw her father do with corpses. “Maybe I went a little… too far?” She sighed and jumped off the pedestal.

Niyleen walked over the the cliff and a village across from her. “Ainethach’s village…” though she’s looked upon it many a time, she herself has never pillaged or even antagonized Karthwasten. “I can lie low there… maybe score a quick job, seeing as my former associates were so kind as to GIVE MY SHARE OF THE LOOT TO FUCKING FORSWORN!!”

Calming herself, Niyleen made her way down the mountain and across the lake. Though Karthwasten was just on the cliffs above her, it was the body she encountered at their base that intrigued her at the moment. “Damn, someone got to Lugramph,” she said seeing her falling Orc companion. “Well at least you received your ‘good death’ my friend, not like some of those blokes that get locked up like animals in Cidnah. May Malacath guide you,” she took a quick glance at his boots and smirked. “And may Julianos guide me! No reason to let a perfectly good pair of boots go to waste.”

After putting on the boots, Niyleen continued towards Karthwasten posthaste.

“Damn hills,” Niyleen said as she came up on Karthwasten at long last. Having had taken her blade out to give it a few swings, she quickly sheathed it upon reaching the village as a heated argument seemed to be brewing.

”Atar! I want you damn sellswords out of my mine,” said a youthful looking Breton.

(So that’s Ainethach,) Niyleen thought to herself. (He’s pretty, I’ll give him that.)

“Watch your tongue, native scum,” the one called Atar said. “We’ll leave when we’re sure there’s no Forsworn here.”

”I see, and when exactly will that be,” Ainethach snapped back. “Let me take a wild guess: when I sell my land to the Silver-Bloods?”

(The Silver-Bloods!!! Oh crap, not here too.) Niyleen looked anxiously around her inspecting those assembled carefully, however no one here seemed to be bothered with her.

“You may just be smarter than you look. Look here Breton, the Silver-Bloods have made you a very generous offer for this pile of dirt. I suggest you take it and quit wasting their and my time.”

On that note, everyone dispersed and nobody bothered even recognizing that Niyleen had come upon the town. “Right rude of these people to not notice that they had a visitor to their town,” she said aloud to no one in particular. She then noticed the Breton off on his own and decided to make her move now.

“I see those rough looking fellows were giving you a rough time,” She said as she came up on him.

“Who’re yo—oh, a visiter,” Ainethach slouched his shoulders. “I-I apologize if you saw that, but it’s robbery. Robbery in it’s purest form. The Silver-Bloods are trying to muscle in on my land! “

“Woah woah woah, explain yourself Breton,” Niyleen said edging closer still.

“You see, last night Forsworn attacked the mines, and suddenly all these sellswords show up to help. Now, they won't let anyone work until I sell it off.”

“Well,” Niyleen knew she was going to want to swallow her words before she spoke them. “Why not just sell? I mean some pay is better than no pay, right?”

“No!” Niyleen saw the Breton’s fists clench and the passion in his eyes. “This is MY land. You expect me to just hand it over to those Silver-Blood thugs?”

“I guess not.” Niyleen took a quick glance back at her old bandit camp and nodded. “Ok Ainethach, I’ll tell you what, I’ll handle that Atar fellow and in exchange—”

“I’ll put some coin in your pocket,” Ainethach said with a hint of expectation.

“Exactly.”

“Ha! You can try, but I'd keep your sword-arm ready if things get ugly.”

Niyleen nodded, flashed the Breton a smile and headed off to do some information gathering around the village. Every account filled her with rage toward the Silver-Bloods, Atar and his men, and the Forsworn. They were all blights to the Reach and she was to be the cure. Upon finishing up, she decided to strike at night when men usually began to wind down.

Soon as the first stars touched the sky, she was off to the mine. Once there she stopped to gather herself. “Dammit girl. Remember, you’re a bandit! Not some milkdrinking hero-type like the rest of these buggers.” Niyleen took her coin purse in her hand and sighed. “But earned septims are just as good as bloody ones and I’m damn sure out of bloody ones.”

She looked at the entrance to the mine and yelled, “Fucking Forsworn,” before finally heading inside.